


Ante Up

by Zai42



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Card Games, Fluff and Smut, Gambling, Multi, Oral Sex, Xeno, or...middlecare as the case may be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Game night at the Smith/Racket/drik Acht Amsterdam/Wilde residence.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Sasha Racket/Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 26
Kudos: 49





	Ante Up

“What are we playing this week?” Grizzop asked, cutting the deck of cards Sasha slid over the table towards him.

“Blackjack,” Sasha said. “I’ll deal first.”

“Easy to cheat,” Wilde murmured.

Sasha leaned back to glare at him where he knelt under the table. “Oi,” she said. “Too early for you to start sassing me.”

Wilde grinned up at her and planted a kiss to her knee. “Apologies,” he said, sounding utterly unapologetic. “When would you like me to start sassing you?”

“At least wait for someone to win a hand,” Zolf suggested. He nudged Wilde’s side with a foot just to watch him squirm. “You comfortable? Need more pillows?”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Wilde said.

“Yeah,” Grizzop piped up, “worry about losing as bad as you did last week.”

“You did do atrociously last week, darling,” Wilde said as Sasha began to deal.

Zolf nudged him again. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Cuz you helped Sasha cheat.”

“Don’t need help, mate,” Sasha said, flipping over her card. “You in?”

Sasha won the first hand easily, slid the deck across the table to Zolf, and curled her fingers in Wilde’s hair, coaxing him forward between her legs. He kissed high up on her thigh, his hands stroking along the fine, soft hair on her calves. “Can I sass you now?” he murmured, then bent to run the tip of his tongue along the folds of her cunt, light and teasing. (It _was_ only the first hand, after all.)

Above him Zolf dealt, and Wilde sank into his task, relishing the soft stroke of Sasha’s fingers in his hair, the thick, heavy scent of her as she warmed beneath his mouth.

Sasha sighed softly, and Grizzop barked out a laugh; Wilde opened his eyes to see Sasha showing him her hand, a ten and a six. He huffed a laugh against her thigh. “There’s that poker face,” Grizzop said. He peeked below the table as Sasha pulled her hand back. “Making sure you’re not cheating,” he said.

“No point with a hand like that,” Wilde replied, running a thumb over Sasha’s clit in slow, sympathetic circles.

“Hit me,” Sasha said, then, “fuck,” and Wilde pressed a parting kiss to her hip.

“C’mere, love,” Grizzop said, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s see if we can’t keep you for a bit.”

The flushed tips of Grizzop’s tendrils were just starting to emerge from the wet slit between his legs, and Wilde set about coaxing them further out. He was rougher with Grizzop than with Sasha, nipping lightly with his teeth, sucking bruises into his thighs, slipping a finger into him to feel the hidden lengths of his coiled cock.

He heard Zolf swear and then laugh above him, and warmth unspooled in Wilde’s chest, comfortable and affectionate. He licked along the exposed length of Grizzop’s cock and glanced up at him. Grizzop met his eye and winked. “Blackjack,” he said. “You’re staying with me.”

“Without my help cheating, even,” Wilde murmured. “House always wins, I suppose.”

“Unless it’s Zolf,” Sasha said.

“Unless it’s Zolf,” Zolf agreed, all faux, grumbling offense. “Deal the next hand, Sasha.”

Wilde closed his eyes and let their chatter wash over him as he sucked Grizzop into his mouth. His cock throbbed, distantly, and he pressed an absent hand between his legs, gave himself a soft pressure to roll his hips against with no real urgency behind it. There was no rush on nights like this. His free hand came up to stroke along the flat plane of Grizzop’s stomach.

Sasha won the next hand and the hand after that, and Wilde resettled himself between her legs, lavishing attention on her, rolling her clit between his lips and smirking as it made her twitch. “Tryin’ to focus here,” she said, but hooked a leg over his shoulder to keep him close.

“You’ve been winning all night, darling,” Wilde murmured. “I’m leveling the playing field.”

“Mhm,” Sasha said vaguely, sinking down in her seat and tossing her other leg over his shoulder. “Hit me.” Then: _“Fuck.”_

“You have to stop doing that,” Wilde said, and Sasha swatted at the top of his head.

“Hey, Zolf won,” Grizzop said brightly. “Broke your losing streak.”

“Bout time,” Zolf said, shuffling the deck. “All right, Wilde?”

“Mmm,” Wilde said, settling between Zolf’s legs, sliding a palm up one thick thigh, relishing the feel of solid muscle beneath a generous layer of fat. “I’m very happy for you,” he said, nosing at Zolf’s prick, heavy and still mostly soft, stirring with interest as Wilde peppered kisses along the head. “Hello, sweetheart,” he added, and licked along the velvet underside of Zolf’s cock before swallowing it down his throat while that was still easily accomplished.

Zolf had a longer fuse than either Grizzop or Sasha; Wilde could hold back less with him, pull out tricks that would bring the others too close to the edge to back off again. He swirled his tongue around the head of Zolf’s prick and let his eyes slip closed in contentment.

Grizzop won the next hand, Sasha the two after that, then Grizzop, then Zolf for two hands, then Sasha again. Wilde flitted between them in a happy daze, smiling adoringly up at them when they spoke to him, offering terrible advice if they shared their hand with him, humming his pleasure when they reached down to touch him. He was mouthing lazily at Sasha’s cunt when Zolf nudged him again.

“We’re taking a break,” he said gently, when Wilde slit open one eye to glance over at him. “Come on, come stretch your legs and get some water.”

“Mmmph,” Wilde said, pressed a kiss to Sasha’s blood-flushed clit, and obediently climbed out from beneath the table, stretching until every joint popped satisfyingly. Sasha, slouching in her chair, tugged at his wrist until he bent over her and kissed her mouth, her hands coming to scratch luxuriously at his scalp, her tongue licking greedily at his lips. “Thank you,” Wilde said, and Sasha patted his cheek.

“Help me up,” she said, and Wilde tugged her out of her chair; she looped an arm around his waist and steered him towards the sofa, warm and soft against his side.

She deposited him on the sofa next to Grizzop, who handed him a glass of water and pulled him into a kiss of his own, more toothy than Sasha’s, and Wilde grinned as he nibbled his way down his throat. “You need a blanket under there?” Grizzop asked, poking at Wilde’s bare stomach. “Not cold?”

“No,” Wilde said, and sipped at his water when Grizzop glanced significantly at it. “Quite a lot of body heat down there, you’d be surprised.”

Grizzop snuggled up against his side. “Well let us know,” he said.

From the kitchen, Wilde heard Zolf laugh at something Sasha had said, and again that coil of soft heat rose up in him; when they ambled back into the living room, tangled up in each other, Wilde smiled up at them, still buzzing gently with endorphins. Sasha offered him a hand. “All right, Wilde?”

Wilde finished his water and took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. “Perfect,” he said.

“Ready to keep going?” Zolf asked, leaning over to brush his lips over Wilde’s knuckles, his own arms looped around Sasha’s waist.

“Oh, always,” Wilde replied with a dreamy sigh. “You should know,” he added as he was lead back towards the table, “I’m not actually certain how to play blackjack.”

“Yeah I figured that out when you told me to hit with two queens,” Grizzop said dryly. He shoved lightly at the back of Wilde’s knees. “That’s why we don’t let you play anymore.”

“And yet,” Wilde said, going elegantly - as elegantly as one could - to his knees, settling into his nest of pillows beneath the table and nuzzling up against Zolf’s legs as they all took their seats, “I still think I’m the one winning here.”


End file.
